


I wanna ruin our friendship.

by rosmarine



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Baking, Fluff, M/M, thats all folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:45:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6529852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosmarine/pseuds/rosmarine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bitty loses his kitchen, Dex loses some skin, and Nursey loses his chill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I wanna ruin our friendship.

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from the song Jenny, by Studio Killers. special thanks to sadhipstercat for betaing.

It was a good plan. It was a _really_ good plan – shared in custody by both Dex and Nursey, although Dex wasn’t sure whose mind it had sprung from, they planned everything together now. Give Bitty a break, bake him a cake. It was like one of those dumb Haus chants Ransom and Holster always started, only with less genitalia. Fantastically brilliant, right up until the moment Dex found himself laying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, surrounded by the nervous thrum of Nursey barking into his cell phone.

“ _No,_ Shitty,” said Nursey, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t call for _legal advice_ , I called because I _don’t know what to do._ ” He paused. “Alright, uh-hum – got it.”

Dex’s grip tightened. “Uhm, Nursey,” he called, “I don’t really want to be responsible for ruining the Haus carpet.”

Nursey’s pacing stopped. His eyes darted towards Dex’s fingers, his eyes widening.

Nursey’s voice grew distant. His footsteps thudded across the kitchen floor.

“I mean, it wasn’t too deep or whatever. I just don’t want to be responsible for Dex bleeding out on Haus property, you know?”

Dex rolled his eyes, focusing on the sharp pain spreading through his palm. Suddenly, Nursey’s face appeared above his. A warm hand pried open his grip, shoving a wad of paper towels into his palm and curling his fingers around it. Protectively, if Dex was being honest.

Dex felt the couch dip next to him. Nursey’s profile hunched forwards, and he curled a fist around his mouth. 

“Alright, Shitty. Thanks for, uhm,” Nursey rubbed the back of his neck, “not hanging up the moment you saw your caller ID. Get back to class, bro.” He hung up the phone.

“You called Shitty?” asked Dex.

“Yeah. Why?”

Dex moved to cross his arms. Shifting his shoulder would have pushed Nursey off the couch. He didn’t.

“I don’t know, maybe because he got everyone at the last kegster _sick_ by brewing liquor in a _bathtub_?”

Nursey’s entire back vibrated as he let out a chuckle. A week ago, Dex would have burned red with embarrassment if Nursey had laughed at him. Now, Dex just grinned, poking Nursey’s side with his good hand.

“Shitty’s smarter than you’re giving him credit for,” said Nursey. “Besides, who else was I supposed to call? Jack, and pull him out of his meeting with the coaches? Ransom and Holster, who’d ask if we got it on film? Bitty?”

Dex cringed. He could just imagine that conversation – “ _Hey Bitty, sorry we forcibly dragged you out of the kitchen, your sanctuary, on your birthday, but one of us accidentally stabbed ourselves and don’t know first aid.”_

“All right, Nurse. You have a point.”

Nursey tugged off his beanie, running his hands through his hair.

“How did this even happen?” he asked.

Dex shrugged. “My parents were always too scared to let me use sharp utensils. I had to cut my vegetables with a Hello Kitty knife until I was sixteen.”

Nursey shifted. “That is messed up, man. Let me see it,” he said. Alarm flooded Dex, and he instinctively cradled his hand closer to his chest.

“I, uhm,” he stuttered, grimacing under Nursey’s gaze. It wasn’t that the idea of Nursey touching him freaked him out – it was just that the act was so _intimate_ , Dex was worried. The last time he’d been injured was when he’d tackled Nursey on the ice after some argument over country music. He was so accustomed to Nursey being the cause of all his pain, all his hardship, that it was a little too weird for Nursey to be offering relief.

Dex didn’t really have a choice. Nursey grabbed his wrist, giving Dex an unreadable look, like he was asking permission.

“Just do it already,” said Dex, his heart hammering in his throat.

Dex always had poor circulation – he doubled up on gloves and socks during the games and could never share a bed with anyone because of his icy feet. But he was never quite so aware of his cold appendages until they were cradled in Nursey’s palms, large and warm and slightly sweaty.

Nursey brushed aside the wadded up towel. Cool air hit the gash in Dex’s hand and he bit his lip.

“Oh shit,” said Nursey. In a flash, he was off the couch, cowering in the doorway. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. You’re gonna die, man.”

Dex sat up. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m fine. It’s just a cut – look, it doesn’t even need stitches.” He waved his injured hand around. Sure, it stung like a bitch and felt a little weird to have two flaps of skin rubbing against each other, but Dex played _hockey_ for _fun_. No pain, no gain.

Nursey ran a hand over his beard, opening his mouth. “This is bad,” he said. “This is really bad.”

“Dude, just _chill_. What, you don’t like blood?”

Nursey was a blur of movement. There was a clattering in the kitchen – pots and pans, thought Dex, that they had piled on the counters.

“How am I supposed to be chill,” Nursey’s voice rose, “when the blood that’s supposed to be _inside_ your body is spurting _out_?”

“So let me get this straight,” said Dex, “You’re a hockey player who completely wimps out at the site of blood? How is that even a thing?”

A loud _thwack_ resonated from inside the kitchen. “You shouldn’t be talking, Mr. Hello-Kitty-Utensils.”

“I have young children living in my house! What’s your excuse?”

Across the hall, glass shattered.

“Well, fuck this shit,” muttered Dex, swinging his legs over the couch and thudding his way into the kitchen. He shouldered open the door, bearing his teeth, and –

He froze.

The kitchen looked like a tornado had hit, flour covering almost every surface, metal pans piled high. But it had looked like that twenty minutes ago, when Dex and Nursey were struggling to follow a simple cake recipe.

Nursey stood in the middle of the mayhem, wearing a stained _**** the Cook_ apron, cradling a stainless steel bowl in the crook of his arm and whisking away.

Dex blinked.

“You’re stressed,” said Dex, “which never happens. And cooking. Which also never happens.”

Nursey froze.

“Do you _stress cook?_ ” Asked Dex. Apparently yes - the most chill, laid-back, collected guy he knew had one super weird outlet. Which he resorted to when _Dex_ got injured.

“Nah man,” Nursey said in an easy tone, but the flexing of his jaw betrayed him. “This recipe is pretty basic.”

Dex crossed his arms. “If it’s so easy to figure out, then why have we been struggling to preheat the oven for an hour and a half ?” Dex wasn’t complaining. He’d had an hour and a half to goof around with Nursey, and _god_ had that been fun. Dex doubted they’d ever be able to get rid of the smell of singed cardboard or explain to Bitty where all the marshmallows went.

“You lied to me?” cried Dex, shoving a finger into Nursey’s chest. “Then _what_ exactly have we been doing for the past two hours? Bitty was _clawing at the door_. We got _flour_ on the _ceiling._ I _stabbed_ myself.”

Dex caught a whiff of cocoa. He blinked. Nursey looked – startled. Dex glanced around. He hadn’t meant to step this close, crowding Nursey back into the countertop. Both boys were breathing hard.

And for a fleeting second, two paths stretched out in front of Dex. He saw himself smacking Nursey across the face and yelling at him until his face turned purple. He saw himself – well, there was a _reason_ that Dex and Nursey no longer fought, why they suddenly crashed at each other’s dorms and walked to class and binge watched _Unlikely Friends_. Their newfound closeness startled Dex, but was not unwelcome.

If Dex inhaled too deeply, he’d be brushing Nursey’s chest.

“That was _not_ my fault,” murmured Nursey.

But it kind of was. Dex had been wielding the knife properly, slicing into a lemon, when Nursey had let out a rough grunt. Dex’s gaze flickered up for just a _second_ to see Nursey, his back turned, stretching a long arm up to reach the mixer on the top shelf. His shirt had ridden up, exposing the valley of his back, and, well. The next thing Dex remembered was Nursey’s face growing pale, his hands wrapped around Dex, and manhandling him to the couch.

“You just wanted to spend time with me,” accused Dex. Nursey’s face reddened. _Bingo._

“Come on, man,” said Nursey, “it’s not like you had anything better to do on a Friday night.” That would feel like a jab if Dex didn’t know that his Friday nights were most commonly spent with Nursey.

Dex leaned forwards. He was too close for his intention to be portrayed as anything else, and he waited a beat for Nursey to laugh or to push away or to break his heart.

“Don’t I?” asked Dex. For a moment, Dex’s gaze flickered down to Nursey’s mouth, and he felt his throat tighten. The entire world stopped spinning on its axis, and Dex wrestled with the very real possibility that he might get punched in the face for what he was contemplating doing. Kissing a hockey player.

Or, he might not.

He leaned forwards, pressing his lips against Nursey’s. Nursey’s hands cupped the back of his neck, his beard scratching against Dex’s cheeks. They tangled themselves together, the kiss growing heated. Nursey smelled like cologne and tasted like whipped cream.

Dex was kissing the only person capable of sending him into a rage blackout, and it felt glorious.

The door banged open.

“All right, ya’ll have had enough time to do whatever it is you needed to do here,” said Bitty. Dex and Nursey jumped apart. Nursey elbowed a tub of cocoa powder, sending a puff whirling into the air. Dex’s eyes watered and he choked.

Bitty’s cheeks were red from the cold. He tossed his scarf over his shoulder, smirking..

“As much as it warms my heart to see you two boys _making up_ , I’d rather not have y’all doing it by _sullying_ my kitchen.”

Dex’s ears turned as red as his hair. He buried his face in Nursey’s chest, feeling the vibration from a chuckle.

“Sorry, Bits,” Dex murmured.

“Come on, Dex,” said Nursey, unwrapping him and tugging on his arm, “let’s go clean that cut.”

“Okay,” said Dex, “but if it gets infected I’m having Shitty sue your ass.”

“Now that’s well and good,” said Nursey, chasing Dex up the stairs, “but have fun sitting on that for four and a half years.”

Dex grinned. “Speaking of _long term sitting_ …” He craned his neck, watching as Nursey’s entire face turned as red as Lardo’s Red-hot lipstick.

It was a little weird, having his ass smacked by a guy who Dex used to seriously contemplate murdering. But he heard Bitty blasting Beyonce from the kitchen, and Nursey tugged into a rough kiss at the top of the stairs.

It _was_ weird. But Dex could get used to it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come follow me on [tumblr](http://www.pointyderek.tumblr.com), i love taking prompts and beta-ing.


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